In an Alternate Universe The Prequel
by Ms-Figg
Summary: A short story about the role-reversed lives of Hermione and Severus before they met and the games began. Largely consists of text from TSS. AU/AR, COMPLETE, Other, UST Rated MATURE because of the VERY ADULT story it precedes. No sexual content here.
1. You're a Witch

_Author Note: This story is a prequel to "In an Alternate Universe," my role-reversal story about Severus Snape as the randy young Gryffindor and Hermione Granger, the snarky Slytherin Potions Mistress. _

_This is not original but stays as close to JKR's text as possible, the dialogue and situations mildly modified. It starts out with Hermione and James Potter meeting in the park. Originally I wrote it as Harry's memories, but removed that because in "An Alternate Universe" Hermione never shared any memories with Harry because Dumbledore didn't die but had a Horcrux._

**Chapter One ~ You're a Witch  
**  
A girl was in a nearly deserted playground. A single huge chimney dominated the distant skyline. The girl was swinging backward and forward. Her brown hair was bushy and dry, and her clothing so mismatched that it looked deliberate: a too long skirt, a shabby overlarge sweater that might have belonged to a grown woman, an odd smock-like blouse.

She looked no more than nine or ten years old, slightly tanned, small, skinny. There was an undisguised sour look on her thin face as swung higher and higher.

"Hermione, don't do it!" Granger's father's voice warned in her mind.

But the girl let go of the swing at the very height of its arc and flew into the air, quite literally flew, launching herself skyward with a cackle of laughter, and instead of crumpling on the playground asphalt, she soared like a trapeze artist through the air, staying up far too long, landing far too lightly.

"Your father told you not to!" her conscience hissed.

"But I'm fine," said Granger out loud, frowning. "And there's other things I can do."

Granger glanced around. The playground was deserted apart from herself. She picked up a fallen flower from a bush and held it in her palm. The flower sat there, opening and closing its petals, like some bizarre, many-lipped oyster.

"Stop it!" her conscience demanded.

"It's not hurting anyone," murmured Granger, but she closed her hand on the blossom and threw it back to the ground.

Her brown eyes followed the flower's flight to the ground and lingered upon it.

"How do I do it?" she asked herself softly.

"It's obvious, isn't it?"

James Potter jumped out from behind the bushes. Granger, though clearly startled, remained where she was as the messy-hair boy wearing glasses looked her over.

Hermione seemed to regret her appearance. A dull flush of color mounted her cheeks as she looked at James.

"What's obvious?" asked Granger.

James had an air of nervous excitement. "I know what you are."

"What do you mean?"

"You're. . . you're a witch," whispered James.

She looked affronted.

"That's not a very nice thing to say to somebody!"

She turned, nose in the air, and marched off toward the swings, her long skirt dragging along the ground. She was highly colored now.

James hurried after the girl.

"No," he said.

Granger considered him in disapproval, holding on to one of the swing poles, as though it was the safe place in tag.

"You are," said James to Granger. "You are a witch. I've been watching you for a while. But there's nothing wrong with that. My mum and dad are magical, and I'm a wizard."

Granger's laugh was like cold water.

"Wizard!" she shrieked, her courage returned now that she had recovered from the shock of his unexpected appearance.

James nodded.

"And I know who you are. You're that Granger girl. You live down Spinner's End by the river," he told Granger. It was evident from his tone that he was sympathetic. The address was a poor recommendation.

"Why have you been spying on me?"

"Haven't been spying," said James uncomfortably, feeling awkward in the bright sunlight. "I wouldn't spy on you. I was just—here is all."

"I'm leaving!" Granger said shrilly, and she marched away through the playground gate, glaring at James as she left.

A few weeks later, James Potter and Hermione Granger apparently had come to an understanding. They sat in a thicket of trees, a sunlit river glittering through their trunks. The shadows cast by the trees made a basin of cool green shade. The two children sat facing each other, cross-legged on the ground.

Granger had removed her sweater now; her odd blouse looked less peculiar in the half light as she listened to James.

". . . and the Ministry can punish you if you do magic outside school, you get  
letters."

"But I have done magic outside school!"

"We're all right. We haven't got wands yet. They let you off when you're a kid and you can't help it. But once you're eleven," he nodded importantly, "and they start training you, then you've got to go careful."

There was a little silence. Granger had picked up a fallen twig and twirled it in the air, imagining sparks trailing from it. Then she dropped the twig, leaned in toward the boy, and said, "It is real, isn't it? It's not a joke? You're not lying to me. There is a Hogwarts. It is real, isn't it?"

"It's real for us," said James. "We'll get the letter, you and me."

"Really?" whispered Granger.

"Definitely," said James, sprawled in front of her, brimful of confidence in his destiny.

"And will it really come by owl?" Granger whispered.

"Normally," said James. "But you're Muggle-born, so someone from the school will have to come and explain to your parents."

"Does it make a difference, being Muggle-born?"

James hesitated. His dark eyes moved over her face, the bushy brown hair.

"No," he said. "It doesn't make any difference."

"Good," said Granger, relaxing. It was clear that she had been worrying.

"You've got loads of magic," said James. "I saw that. All the time I was watching you. . . "  
Hermione turned red as she stretched out on the leafy ground and looked up at the canopy of leaves overhead.

"How are things at your house?" James asked.

A little crease appeared between her eyes.

"Fine," she said.

"They're not arguing anymore?"

"Oh yes, they're arguing," said Granger said. She sat up and picked up a fistful of leaves and began tearing them apart, apparently unaware of what she was doing. "But it won't be that long and I'll be gone."

There was a pregnant pause.

"James?"

"Yeah, Hermione?"

A little smile twisted Granger's mouth when he said her name.

"Tell me about the Dementors again."

"What d'you want to know about them for?"

"If I use magic outside school—"

"They wouldn't give you to the Dementors for that! Dementors are for people who do really bad stuff. They guard the wizard prison, Azkaban. You're not going to end up in Azkaban, you're too—too good a witch."

Granger turned red again and shredded more leaves. Then a small rustling noise behind Harry made him turn: Someone, hiding behind a tree, had lost his footing.

"Sirius!" said James, surprise and welcome in his voice, but Granger had jumped to her feet.

"Why are you spying?" she shouted. "What d'you want?"

Sirius frowned at Granger. It was clear to see he didn't understand what James saw in her that was so interesting. She was ugly, bucktoothed and her hair looked like a bottlebrush. If she were pretty, he could see it. He struggled for something hurtful to say.

"What is that you're wearing, anyway?" he said, pointing at Granger's chest.

"Your mum's blouse?"

There was a crack. A branch over Sirius' head had fallen. James let out a shout as the branch caught Sirius on the shoulder, and he staggered backward.

"Sirius!"

But Sirius was stalking away, angry. James rounded on Granger.

"Did you make that happen?"

"No." She looked both defiant and scared.

"You did!" He was backing away from her. "You did! You hurt him on purpose!"

"No—no, I didn't!"

But the lie did not convince James. After one last burning look, he ran from the little thicket, off after his friend, and Granger looked miserable and confused. . .

************************************  
A/N: Thanks for reading


	2. Going to Hogwarts

**Chapter 2 ~ Going to Hogwarts**

Granger was on platform nine and three quarters, next to a thin, sour-looking woman who greatly resembled her. A tall, burly brown haired man stood scowling next to them

James was staring at the family of three a short distance away. Granger seemed to be pleading with her father.

". . . I'm sorry, father, I'm sorry! Listen—" She caught her father's hand and held tight to it, but he angrily tried to pull it away. "Maybe once I'm there, I'll be able to go to Professor Dumbledore and persuade him to change his mind!"

"I don't—want—you—to change his mind!" said John Granger. "You go to that stupid castle and learn to be a—a. . . "

His brown eyes roved over the platform, over the cats mewling in their owners' arms, over the owls, fluttering and hooting at each other in cages, over the students, some already in their long black robes, loading trunks onto the scarlet steam engine or else greeting one another with glad cries after a summer apart.

"—a freak!"

Gramger's eyes filled with tears as her father succeeded in pulling his hand away. He would have struck her if they weren't in public.

"I'm not a freak," said Granger, tears in her eyes.

That was a horrible thing for her father to say. But her father was a horrible man in many ways. He was angry because Headmaster Albus Dumbledore told him in no uncertain terms that Hermione was to be at the train at the proper time without a single mark on her or he'd personally hex his nads off. John Granger might be able to bully the women in his life, but not Dumbledore. He had been reduced to verbally abusing his daughter and he did so furiously.

"That's where you're going," said her father with relish. "A special school for freaks. You and that Potter boy. . .weirdos, that's what you two are. It's good you're being separated from normal people. It's for our safety."

"Freak!" he spat at her once more, then grabbed her mother's arm and strode away.

*************************************

Granger hurried along the corridor of the Hogwarts Express as it clattered through the countryside. She had already changed into her school robes, had perhaps taken the first opportunity to take off her dreadful Muggle clothes. At last she stopped, outside a compartment in which a group of loud girls were talking. Hunched in a corner seat beside the window was James, Sirius sitting beside him.

Granger slid open the compartment door and sat down opposite James, pressing her face against the window. Sirius rolled his eyes and James glanced at her as she began to very quietly cry.

"Hermione?"

"I don't want to talk to you," she said in a constricted voice.

"Why not?"

"My father h-hates me. Because of Dumbledore."

"So what?"

She threw him a look of deep dislike. "So he's my father!"

"He's only a—" James caught himself quickly; Granger, too busy trying to wipe her eyes without being noticed, did not hear him. He had been about to call him an abusive prig.

"But we're going!" he said, unable to suppress the exhilaration in his voice. "This is it! We're off to Hogwarts!"

She nodded, mopping her eyes, but in spite of herself, she half smiled.

"You'd better be in Gryffindor," said James, encouraged that she had brightened a little.

"Gryffindor?"

One of the girls sharing the compartment, who had shown no interest at all in Granger or James until that point, looked around at the word. She was slender, red-haired and with that indefinable air of having been well-cared-for, even adored, that Granger so conspicuously lacked.

"Of course, Gryffindor. Who wants to be in Slytherin? I think I'd leave, wouldn't you?" Lily asked Sirius, who was lounging on the seat opposite her.

Sirius did not smile.

"My whole family have been in Slytherin," he said.

"Blimey," said James, "and I thought you seemed all right!"

Sirius grinned.

"Maybe I'll break the tradition," he said, turning to Lily. "Where are you heading, if you've got the choice?"

Lily lifted an invisible sword.

"'Gryffindor, where dwell the brave at heart!' I've read all about it, and Gryffindor produces the greatest, most attractive witches and wizards."

Granger made a small, disparaging noise. Lily turned on her.

"Got a problem with that?"

"No," said Granger, though her slight sneer said otherwise. "If you'd rather be breasty than brainy—"

"Where're you hoping to go, seeing as you're neither?" interjected another witch.

Lily cackled with laughter. Granger sat up, rather flushed, and looked from Lily to the other witch in dislike.

"Come on, James, let's find another compartment."

"Oooooo. . . "

Lily and the other witch imitated her lofty voice; Lily tried to trip Granger as she passed.

"See ya, Whoremony!" a voice called, as the compartment door slammed. . .

****************************************. . .

The new first-years faced the candlelit House tables, lined with rapt faces. They were being sorted according to their positions in line rather than surname. Then Professor McGonagall announced, "Potter, James!"

James walked forward and sat down upon the rickety stool. Professor McGonagall dropped the Sorting Hat onto his head, and barely a second after it had touched the messy black hair, the hat cried, "Gryffindor!"

Granger let out a tiny groan.

James took off the hat, handed it back to Professor McGonagall, then hurried toward the cheering Gryffindors, but as he went she glanced back at Granger, and there was a sad little smile on his face. Lily moved up the bench to make room for him.

James took one look at her, seemed to recognize her from the train, folded his arms, and firmly turned his back on her. .

The roll call continued. Lupin, Pettigrew and Sirius, joined James at the Gryffindor table. At last, when only a dozen students remained to be sorted, Professor McGonagall looked down at Granger.

"What is your name, my dear?"

"Hermione Granger."

"Granger, Hermione!" Professor McGonagall announced.

She walked to the stool, and the professor placed the hat upon her head.

"Slytherin!" cried the Sorting Hat.

And Hermione Granger moved off to the other side of the Hall, away from James, to where the Slytherins were cheering her, to where Lucius Malfoy, a prefect badge gleaming upon his chest, rubbed Granger on her shoulder as she sat down beside him. .

********************************

James and Granger were walking across the castle courtyard, evidently arguing. They were much taller now. A few years had passed since their Sorting.

". . . thought we were supposed to be friends?" Granger was saying, "Best friends?"

"We are, Hermione, but I don't like some of the people you're hanging round with! I'm sorry, but I can't stand Avery and Mulciber! Mulciber! What do you see in him, Hermione, he's creepy! D'you know what he tried to do to Mary MacDonald the other day?"

James had reached a pillar and leaned against it, looking up into her slightly pinched face.

"That was nothing," said Granger. "It was a laugh, that's all—"

"It was Dark Magic, and if you think that's funny—"

"What about the stuff Evans and her friends get up to?" demanded Granger. Her color rose again as she said it, unable, it seemed, to hold in her resentment.

"What's Evans got to do with anything?" said James, totally ignoring the fact that Lily and her friends targeted Hermione every chance they got.

"Evans gets away with bloody murder all the time. And what about your friends, James? I know you all go out at night and there's something weird about that Lupin you hang around."

"He's ill," said James. "They say he's ill—"

"Every month at the full moon?" said Granger.

"I know your theory about Lupin," said James, and he sounded cold. "Why are you so obsessed with Lily and Lupin anyway? Why do you care what they're doing?"

"I'm just trying to show you they're not as wonderful as everyone seems to think they are."

The intensity of James' gaze made her blush.

"They don't use Dark Magic, though." He dropped his voice. "And you're being really ungrateful. I heard what happened the other night. You went sneaking down that tunnel by the Whomping Willow, and Lily saved you from whatever's down there—"

Gramger's whole face contorted and he spluttered, "Saved? Saved? You think she was playing the heroine? She was saving her neck and her friends' too! You're not going to—I won't let you—"

"Let me? Let me?"

James' bright brown eyes were slits. Granger backtracked at once.

"I didn't mean—I just don't want to see you made a fool of—She fancies you, Lily Evans fancies you!" The words seemed wrenched from her against her will. "And she's not. . . everyone thinks. . . big gifted witch—"

Granger's bitterness and dislike were rendering her incoherent, and James' eyebrows were traveling farther and farther up his forehead.

"I know Lily Evans is an stuck-up chit," he said, cutting across Granger. "I don't need you to tell me that. But Mulciber's and Avery's idea of humor is just evil. Evil, Hermione. I don't understand how you can be friends with them."

Granger didn't even hear his strictures on Mulciber and Avery. The moment he had insulted Lily Evans, her whole body had relaxed, and as they walked away there was a new spring in Granger's step. . .

**************************************

Granger left the Great Hall after sitting her O.W.L. in Defense Against the Dark Arts, she wandered away from the castle and strayed inadvertently close to the place beneath the beech tree where Lily Evans and her three cohorts sat together. They were known as the Velvet Mauraders and got into all kinds of mischief. Granger was targeted by the Gryffindors the moment she was noticed, Lily casting a spell on her.

James joined the group and went to Granger's shouted at him in her humiliation and her fury, the unforgivable word:

"Coward."

*************************************

"I'm sorry."

"I'm not interested."

"I'm sorry!"

"Save your breath."

It was nighttime. James, who was wearing a pair of pajamas, stood with his arms folded in front of the portrait of the Fat Lady, at the entrance to Gryffindor Tower.

"I only came out because Sirius told me you were threatening to sleep here."

"I was. I would have done. I never meant to call you a coward, it just—"

"Slipped out?" There was no pity in James voice. "It's too late. I've made excuses for you for years. None of my friends can understand why I even talk to you. You and your precious little Death Eater friends—you see, you don't even deny it! You don't even deny that's what you're all aiming to be! You can't wait to join You-Know-Who, can you?"

She opened her mouth, but closed it without speaking.

"I can't pretend anymore. You've chosen your way, I've chosen mine."

"No—listen, I didn't mean—"

"—to call me a coward? But you call everyone of my House coward, Hermione.. Why should I be any different?"

She struggled on the verge of speech, but with a contemptuous look he turned and climbed back through the portrait hole. . .

****************************************  
A/N: Thanks for reading.


	3. Granger's Service

**Chapter 3 ~ Granger's Service**

On a hilltop, forlorn and cold in the darkness with the wind whistling through the branches of a few leafless trees, stood the adult Granger. She was panting, turning on the spot, her wand gripped tightly in her hand, waiting for something or for someone. . .

Then a blinding, jagged jet of white light flew through the air like lightning. Granger dropped to her knees, her wand flying out of her hand.

"Don't kill me!"

"That was not my intention."

Any sound of Dumbledore Apparating had been drowned by the sound of the wind in the branches. He stood before Granger with his robes whipping around him, and his face was illuminated from below in the light cast by his wand.

"Well, Hermione? What message does Lord Voldemort have for me?"

"No—no message—I'm here on my own account!"

Hermione was wringing her hands. She looked a little mad, with her bushy brown hair flying around her.

"I—I come with a warning—no, a request—please—"

Dumbledore flicked his wand. Though leaves and branches still flew through the night air around them, silence fell on the spot where he and Granger faced each other.

"What request could a Death Eater make of me?"

"The—the prophecy. . . the prediction. . . Trelawney. . . "

"Ah, yes," said Dumbledore. "How much did you relay to Lord Voldemort?"

"Everything—everything I heard!" said Granger. "That is why—it is for that reason—he thinks it means James Potter!"

"The prophecy did not refer to a man," said Dumbledore. "It spoke of a boy born at the end of July—"

"You know what I mean! He thinks it means his son, he is going to hunt him down—kill them all—"

"If he means so much to you," said Dumbledore, "surely Lord Voldemort will spare him? Could you not ask for mercy for the father, in exchange for the son?"

"I have—I have asked him—"

"You disgust me," said Dumbledore, contempt in his voice. Hermione seemed to shrink a little, "You do not care, then, about the deaths of his wife and child? They can die, as long as you have what you want?"

Hermione said nothing, but merely looked up at Dumbledore.

"Hide them all, then," she croaked. "Keep him—them—safe. Please."

"And what will you give me in return, Hermione?"

"In—in return?" Granger gaped at Dumbledore, who expected her to protest, but after a long moment she said, "Anything."

In Dumbledore's office rose a terrible sound, like a wounded animal. Granger was slumped forward in a chair and Dumbledore was standing over her, looking grim. After a moment or two, Granger raised her face, and she looked like a woman who had lived a hundred years of misery since leaving the wild hilltop.

"I thought. . . you were going. . . to keep him. . . safe. . . "

"He and Lily put their faith in the wrong person," said Dumbledore.

"Rather like you, Hermione. Weren't you hoping that Lord Voldemort would spare him?"

Granger's breathing was shallow.

"His boy survives," said Dumbledore.

With a tiny jerk of the head, Hermione seemed to flick off an irksome fly.

"His son lives. He has his hair and looks, precisely his looks, except for the eyes. You remember his messy hair and his face, I am sure?"

"DON'T!" shrieked Granger. "Gone. . . dead. . . "

"Is this remorse, Hermione?"

"I wish. . . I wish I were dead. . . "

"And what use would that be to anyone?" said Dumbledore coldly. "If you loved James Potter, if you truly loved him, then your way forward is clear."

Granger seemed to peer through a haze of pain, and Dumbledore's words appeared to take a long time to reach her.

"What—what do you mean?"

"You know how and why he died. Make sure it was not in vain. Help me protect James' son."

"He does not need protection. The Dark Lord has gone—"

"The Dark Lord will return, and Harry Potter will be in terrible danger when he does."

There was a long pause, and slowly Granger regained control of herself, mastered her own breathing. At last she said, "Very well. Very well. But never—never tell, Dumbledore! This must be between us! Swear it! I cannot bear. . . especially Evan's son. . . I want your word!"

"My word, Hermione, that I shall never reveal the best of you?" Dumbledore sighed, looking down into Hermione's ferocious, anguished face. "If you insist. . . "

**************************************  
A/N: Thanks for reading


	4. Harry Potter Meets Severus Snape

Chapter 4 ~ Harry Potter Meets Severus Snape

**_Many Years Later_**

Harry had just met Ron Weasley on the Hogwarts Express. He was on his way to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry for the first time and was happy to have made a friend right out.

They had a good time eating the Every Flavor Beans. Harry got toast, coconut, baked bean, strawberry, curry, grass, coffee, sardine, and was even brave enough to nibble the end off a funny gray one Ron wouldn't touch, which turned out to be pepper.

The countryside now flying past the window was becoming wilder. The neat fields had gone. Now there were woods, twisting rivers, and dark green hills.

There was a knock on the door of their compartment and the round-faced boy Harry had passed on platform nine and three quarters came in. He looked tearful.

"Sorry," he said, "but have you seen a toad at all?"

When they shook their heads, he wailed, "I've lost him! He keeps getting away from me!"

"He'll turn up," said Harry.

"Yes," said the boy miserably. "Well, if you see him..."

He left.

"Don't know why he's so bothered," said Ron. "If I'd brought a toad I'd lose it as quick as I could. Mind you, I brought Scabbers, so I can't talk."

The rat was still snoozing on Ron's lap.

"He might have died and you wouldn't know the difference," said Ron in disgust. "I tried to turn him yellow yesterday to make him more interesting, but the spell didn't work. I'll show you, look..."

He rummaged around in his trunk and pulled out a very battered-looking wand. It was chipped in places and something white was glinting at the end.

"Unicorn hair's nearly poking out. Anyway . . ."

He had just raised his 'wand when the compartment door slid open again.

The toadless boy was back, but this time he had another boy with him. He was already wearing his new Hogwarts robes.

"Has either of you seen a toad? Neville's lost one," he said. He was very pale with silky black hair, and a quiet but authoritative voice as if he expected an immediate answer.

"We've already told him we haven't seen it," said Ron, but the boy wasn't listening, he was looking at the wand in his hand.

"Are you doing magic? This ought to be—interesting."

He sat down. Ron looked taken aback.

"Er -- all right."

He cleared his throat.

"Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow, Turn this stupid, fat rat yellow."

He waved his wand, but nothing happened. Scabbers stayed gray and fast asleep.

"Are you sure that's a real spell?" said the boy. "It's not very good. I've cast a few simple spells just for practice and they worked for me. I was quite pleased when I received my letter for Hogwarts. It's the best school for wizardry there is. I've already learned my course books by memory. It should be enough. I'm Severus Snape. Who are you two?"

He said all this very matter-of-factly, as if it were something they should know.

Harry looked at Ron, and was relieved to see by his stunned face that he hadn't learned all the course books by memory either.

"I'm Ron Weasley," Ron muttered.

"Harry Potter," said Harry.

"Really?" said Severus, studying him as if he were something he'd like to dissect. "I know about you.e – You're in Modern Magical History, the Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts and Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century."

"Am I?" said Harry, feeling dazed.

"I'd think you'd know that. If it were me, I'd be sure find out what books I was in, to make sure everything was accurate," said Snape rather disdainfully. "Have either of you thought about the house you'll be sorted into? I've done some research and I'm hoping for Gryffindor, although Ravenclaw would do in a pinch. Anyway, we'd better continue the toad-hunting. You two need to change. We'll be at the castle soon."

And he left, taking the toadless boy with him.

"Whatever house I'm in, I hope he's not in it," said Ron.

**************************************

Having taken boats to Hogwarts castle, the first years were rushed to get ready to be sorted. Feeling oddly as though his legs had turned to lead, Harry got into line behind a boy with sandy hair, with Ron behind him, and they walked out of the chamber, back across the hall, and through a pair of double doors into the Great Hall.

Harry had never even imagined such a strange and splendid place. It was lit by thousands and thousands of candles that were floating in midair over four long tables, where the rest of the students were sitting. These tables were laid with glittering golden plates and goblets. At the top of the hall was another long table where the teachers were sitting.  
Professor McGonagall led the first years up here, so that they came to a halt in a line facing the other students, with the teachers behind them. The hundreds of faces staring at them looked like pale lanterns in the flickering candlelight. Dotted here and there among the students, the ghosts shone misty silver. Mainly to avoid all the staring eyes, Harry  
looked upward and saw a velvety black ceiling dotted with stars.

He heard Snape whisper, "It's bewitched to look like the sky outside. The information is in Hogwarts, A History."

After a rather long and horribly sung song by the Sorting Hat, the students walked up to the dais one after the other, had the ugly hat placed on their heads, then the name of their house shouted to the world.

Sometimes, Harry noticed, the hat shouted out the house at once, but at others it took a little while to decide. "Finnigan, Seamus," the sandy-haired boy next to Harry in the line, sat on the stool for almost a whole minute before the hat declared him a Gryffindor.

"Snape, Severus!"

Severus walked up to the stool with purpose, sat down on it and jammed the hat down on his head.

"GRYFFINDOR!" shouted the hat.

Ron groaned.

********************************************

After the sorting, and a speech by Albus Dumbledore puncutuate by warnings, the student and teachers had a sumptuous buffet style dinner. Ron was inhaling food on the right of Harry. On Harry's other side, Percy Weasley and Snape were talking about lessons

("I hope they start classes right away. There's so much to learn. I'm particularly interested in Potions. It's supposed to be very difficult-";

"You'll be starting small, just making bases and that sort of thing -- ").

Harry, who was starting to feel warm and sleepy, looked up at the High Table again. Hagrid was drinking deeply from his goblet. Professor McGonagall was talking to Professor Dumbledore. Professor Quirrell, in his absurd turban, was talking to a teacher with bushy brown hair, a pinched face, and rather narrowed eyes.

It happened very suddenly.

The narrow-eyed teacher looked past Quirrell's turban straight into Harry's eyes -- and a sharp, hot pain shot across the scar on Harry's forehead.

"Ouch!" Harry clapped a hand to his head.

"What is it?" asked Percy.

"N-nothing."

The pain had gone as quickly as it had come. Harder to shake off was the feeling Harry had gotten from the teacher's look -- a feeling that she didn't like Harry at all.

"Who's that teacher talking to Professor Quirrell?" he asked Percy.

"Oh, you know Quirrell already, do you? No wonder he's looking so nervous, that's Professor Granger. She teaches Potions, but she doesn't want to -- everyone knows she's after Quirrell's job. Knows an awful lot about the Dark Arts, Granger."

Harry watched Granger for a while, but Granger didn't look at him again.

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A/N: Thanks for reading


	5. Meeting the Potions Mistress

**Chapter 5 ~ Meeting the Potions Mistress**

Harry received an invitation from Hagrid to come around for tea on Friday around three. It was lucky that Harry had tea with Hagrid to look forward to, because his first Potions lesson turned out to be the worst thing that had happened to him so far.

At the start-of-term banquet, Harry had gotten the idea that Professor Granger disliked him. By the end of the first Potions lesson, he knew he'd been wrong. Granger didn't dislike Harry -- she hated him.

Potions lessons took place down in one of the dungeons. It was colder here than up in the main castle, and would have been quite creepy enough without the pickled animals floating in glass jars all around the walls.

Granger, like Flitwick, started the class by taking the roll call, and like Flitwick, she paused at Harry's name.

"Ah, Yes," she said softly, "Harry Potter. Our new -- celebrity."

Draco Malfoy and his friends Crabbe and Goyle sniggered behind their hands. Granger finished calling the names and looked up at the class. Her eyes were brown but had no warmth. They were cold and empty and made you think of dismal tunnels.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potionmaking," she began. She spoke in barely more than a whisper, but they caught every word -- like Professor McGonagall, Granger had the gift of keeping a class silent without effort.

"As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through  
human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses.... I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death -- if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

More silence followed this little speech. Harry and Ron exchanged looks with raised eyebrows. Severus Snape was on the edge of his seat and by his glittering eyes it was easy to see he wanted to prove he wasn't a dunderhead.

"Potter!" said Granger suddenly. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Powdered root of what to an infusion of what? Harry glanced at Ron, who looked as stumped as he was. Severus' hand had shot into the air.

"I don't know," said Harry.

Granger's lips curled into a sneer.

"Tut, tut -- fame clearly isn't everything."

She ignored Severus' hand.

"Let's try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

Snape stretched his hand higher, but Harry didn't have the faintest idea what a Bezoar was. He tried not to look at Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle, who were shaking with laughter.

"I don't know."

"Thought you wouldn't open a book before coming, eh, Potter?"

Harry forced himself to keep looking straight into those cold eyes. He had looked through his books at the Dursleys', but did Granger expect him to remember everything in One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi?

Granger was still ignoring Snape's upraised hand.

"What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

At this, Snape bounced in his chair a bit, his hand stretching toward the dungeon  
ceiling.

"I don't know," said Harry quietly. "I think Severus does, though, why don't you try him?"

A few people laughed; Harry caught Seamus's eye, and Seamus winked.

Granger, however, was not pleased.

"Put your blasted hand down," she snapped at Severus, who slowly complied, staring at the snarky teacher. She was something else.

"For your information, Potter, asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death. A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and it will save you from most poisons. As for monkshood and  
wolfsbane, they are the same plant, which also goes by the name of aconite. Well? Why aren't you all copying that down?"

There was a sudden rummaging for quills and parchment. Over the noise, Granger said, "And a point will be taken from Gryffindor House for your cheek, Potter."

"Wow," Snape breathed. Granger was going to be a tough teacher. Maybe even the toughest at Hogwarts.

He couldn't wait.

*******************************************

In the headmaster's office, Granger was pacing up and down in front of Dumbledore.

"—mediocre, arrogant as his mother, a determined rule-breaker, delighted to find himself at the center of things, attention-seeking and impertinent—"

"You see what you expect to see, Hermione," said Dumbledore, without raising his eyes from a copy of Transfiguration Today. "Other teachers report that the boy is modest, likable, and reasonably talented. Personally, I find him an engaging child."

Dumbledore turned a page, and said, without looking up, "Keep an eye on Quirrell, won't you?"

***************************************

A/M: Thanks for reading


	6. The Beginning of the Golden Trio

**Chapter 6 ~ Beginning of the Golden Trio**

In Charms class, Snape tried to help Ron do the Wingardium Leviosa spell by showing him the proper pronunciation of the levitation spell. Angry, Ron told him to do it if he knew so much, and Severus did. He was highly praised by professor Flitwick

Ron was in a very bad mood by the end of the class.

"It's no wonder no one can stand him," he said to Harry as they pushed their way into the  
crowded corridor, "he's a nightmare, honestly. "

Suddenly someone knocked into Harry and caught Ron by the shoulder.

"I was just trying to help you, you stupid prat," Severus hissed at him. "If I didn't want to sully my record, I'd punch you square in the nose, you ungrateful git!"

Severus stormed off.

"I think he heard you."

"So, he heard me," said Ron, but he looked a bit uncomfortable. That had been close. Severus had a bad temper, bookworm or not. "He must've noticed he's got no friends."

Severus didn't turn up for the next class and wasn't seen all afternoon. On their way down to the Great Hall for the Halloween feast, Harry and Ron overheard Neville telling his friend Dean that Severus was raging in the boy's bathroom and wanted to be left alone.

Ron looked still more worried at this, but a moment later they had entered the Great Hall, where the Halloween decorations put Severus out of their minds.

A thousand live bats fluttered from the walls and ceiling while a thousand more swooped over the tables in low black clouds, making the candles in the pumpkins stutter. The feast appeared suddenly on the golden plates, as it had at the start-of-term banquet.

Harry was just helping himself to a baked potato when Professor Quirrell came sprinting into the hall, his turban askew and terror on his face. Everyone stared as he reached Professor Dumbledore's chair, slumped against the table, and gasped, "Troll -- in the dungeons -- thought you ought to know."

He then sank to the floor in a dead faint.

There was an uproar. It took several purple firecrackers exploding from the end of Professor Dumbledore's wand to bring silence.

"Prefects," he rumbled, "lead your Houses back to the dormitories immediately!"

Percy was in his element.

"Follow me! Stick together, first years! No need to fear the troll if you follow my orders! Stay close behind me, now. Make way, first years coming through! Excuse me, I'm a prefect!"

"How could a troll get in?" Harry asked as they climbed the stairs.

"Don't ask me, they're supposed to be really stupid," said Ron. "Maybe Peeves let it in for a Halloween joke."

They passed different groups of people hurrying in different directions. As they jostled their way through a crowd of confused Hufflepuffs, Harry suddenly grabbed Ron's arm.

"I've just thought -- Severus."

"What about him?"

"He doesn't know about the troll."

Ron bit his lip.

"Oh, all right," he snapped. "But Percy'd better not see us."

Ducking down, they joined the Hufflepuffs going the other way, slipped down a deserted side corridor, and hurried off toward the boys' bathroom. They had just turned the corner when they heard quick footsteps behind them.

"Percy!" hissed Ron, pulling Harry behind a large stone griffin. Peering around it, however, they saw not Percy but Granger. She crossed the corridor and disappeared from view.

"What's she doing?" Harry whispered. "Why isn't she down in the dungeons with the rest of the teachers?"

"Search me."

Quietly as possible, they crept along the next corridor after Granger's fading footsteps.

"She's heading for the third floor," Harry said, but Ron held up his hand.

"Can you smell something?"

Harry sniffed and a foul stench reached his nostrils, a mixture of old socks and the kind of public toilet no one seems to clean. And then they heard it -- a low grunting, and the shuffling footfalls of gigantic feet.

Ron pointed -- at the end of a passage to the left, something huge was moving toward them. They shrank into the shadows and watched as it emerged into a patch of moonlight.  
It was a horrible sight. Twelve feet tall, its skin was a dull, granite gray, its great lumpy body like a boulder with its small bald head perched on top like a coconut. It had short legs thick as tree trunks with flat, horny feet. The smell coming from it was incredible. It was holding a huge wooden club, which dragged along the floor because its arms were so long.

The troll stopped next to a doorway and peered inside. It waggled its long ears, making up its tiny mind, then slouched slowly into the room.

"The key's in the lock," Harry muttered. "We could lock it in."

"Good idea," said Ron nervously.

They edged toward the open door, mouths dry, praying the troll wasn't about to come out of it. With one great leap, Harry managed to grab the key, slam the door, and lock it.

'Yes!"  
Flushed with their victory, they started to run back up the passage, but as they reached the corner they heard something that made their hearts stop -- a loud, horrified shout -- and it was coming from the chamber they'd just chained up.

"Oh, no," said Ron, pale as the Bloody Baron.

"It's the boys' bathroom!" Harry gasped.

"Severus!" they said together.

It was the last thing they wanted to do, but what choice did they have? Wheeling around, they sprinted back to the door and turned the key, fumbling in their panic. Harry pulled the door open and they ran inside.

Severus Snape was pressed against the wall opposite, his wand drawn, ineffectively firing hexes and looking as if his heart was going to stop. The troll was advancing on him, knocking the sinks off the walls as it went.

"Confuse it!" Harry said desperately to Ron, and, seizing a tap, he threw it as hard as he could against the wall.

The troll stopped a few feet from Severus. It lumbered around, blinking stupidly, to see what had made the noise. Its mean little eyes saw Harry. It hesitated, then made for him instead, lifting its club as it went.

"Oy, pea-brain!" yelled Ron from the other side of the chamber, and he threw a metal pipe at it. The troll didn't even seem to notice the pipe hitting its shoulder, but it heard the yell and paused again, turning its ugly snout toward Ron instead, giving Harry time to run around it.

"Come on, run, run!" Harry yelled at Severus, trying to pull him toward the door, but he resisted, determined to overcome the troll, his face in a snarl.

The shouting and the echoes seemed to be driving the troll berserk. It roared again and started toward Ron, who was nearest and had no way to escape. Harry then did something that was both very brave and very stupid: He took a great running jump and managed to fasten his arms around the troll's neck from behind. The troll couldn't feel Harry hanging there,but even a troll will notice if you stick a long bit of wood up its nose, and Harry's wand had still been in his hand when he'd jumped – it had gone straight up one of the troll's nostrils.

Howling with pain, the troll twisted and flailed its club, with Harry clinging on for dear life; any second, the troll was going to rip him off or catch him a terrible blow with the club.

Severus ran forward, wand drawn as Ron pulled out his own wand -- not knowing what he was going to do he heard himself cry the first spell that came into his head:

"Wingardium Leviosa!"

The club flew suddenly out of the troll's hand, rose high, high up into the air, turned slowly over -- and dropped, with a sickening crack, onto its owner's head. The troll swayed on the spot and then fell flat on its face, with a thud that made the whole room tremble.

Harry got to his feet. He was shaking and out of breath. Ron was standing there with his wand still raised, staring at what he had done.

It was Severus who spoke first.

"I think you killed it."

I don't think so," said Harry, I think it's just been knocked out."

He bent down and pulled his wand out of the troll's nose. It was covered in what looked like lumpy gray glue.

"Urgh -- troll boogers."

He wiped it on the troll's trousers.

A sudden slamming and loud footsteps made the three of them look up. They hadn't realized what a racket they had been making, but of course, someone downstairs must have heard the crashes and the troll's roars. A moment later, Professor McGonagall had come bursting into the room, closely followed by Granger, with Quirrell bringing up the rear. Quirrell took one look at the troll, let out a faint whimper, and sat quickly down on a toilet, clutching his heart.

Granger bent over the troll. Professor McGonagall was looking at Ron and Harry. Harry had never seen her look so angry. Her lips were white. Hopes of winning fifty points for Gryffindor faded quickly from Harry's mind.

"What on earth were you thinking of?" said Professor McGonagall, with cold fury in her voice. Harry looked at Ron, who was still standing with his wand in the air. Severus had the presence of mind to dip into the shadows and quickly tucked his own wand away successfully. "You're lucky you weren't killed. Why aren't you in your dormitory?"

Granger gave Harry a swift, piercing look. Harry looked at the floor. He wished Ron would put his wand down.

Then a hesitant voice came out of the shadows.

"Professor McGonagall -- they were looking for me."

"Mr. Snape!"

Severus walked out to where everyone could clearly see him.

I went looking for the troll. I thought I could deal with it because I've read all about them."

Ron dropped his wand. Severus Snape, telling a lie to a teacher?

"If they hadn't helped me, I'd be dead now. Harry stuck his wand up its nose and Ron knocked it out with its own club. They didn't have time to come and fetch anyone. It was about to finish me off when they arrived."

Harry and Ron tried to look as though this story wasn't new to them.

"Well -- in that case..." said Professor McGonagall, staring at the three of them, "Mr. Snape, you foolish boy, how could you think of tackling a mountain troll on your own?"

Severus hung his head. Harry was speechless. Severus was the last person to do anything against the rules, and here he was, pretending he had, to get them out of trouble. It was as if Granger had started handing out sweets.

"Mr. Snape, five points will be taken from Gryffindor for this," said Professor McGonagall. "I'm very disappointed in you. If you're not hurt at all, you'd better get off to Gryffindor tower. Students are finishing the feast in their houses."

Severus left.

Professor McGonagall turned to Harry and Ron.

"Well, I still say you were lucky, but not many first years could have taken on a full-grown mountain troll. You each win Gryffindor five points. Professor Dumbledore will be informed of this. You may go."

They hurried out of the chamber and didn't speak at all until they had climbed two floors up. It was a relief to be away from the smell of the troll, quite apart from anything else.

"We should have gotten more than ten points," Ron grumbled.

"Five, you mean, once she's taken off Severus's."

"Good of him to get us out of trouble like that," Ron admitted. "Mind you, we did save him."

"He might not have needed saving if we hadn't locked the thing in with him," Harry reminded him.

They had reached the portrait of the Fat Lady.

"Pig snout," they said and entered.

The common room was packed and noisy. Everyone was eating the food that had been sent up. Severus, however, stood alone by the door, waiting for them. There was a very embarrassed pause. Then, none of them looking at each other, they all said "Thanks," and hurried off to get plates.

But from that moment on, Severus Snape became their friend. There are some things you can't share without ending up liking each other, and knocking out a twelve-foot mountain troll is one of them.

*********************************************

Throughout the following years, Harry, Severus and Ron had many adventures, much to the consternation of Granger, who often paid for their successes in flesh and blood. There was tragedy, too, one of the worst being the death of Dumbledore by Granger's hand, followed by numerous other deaths until Harry managed to vanquish the dark lord for good.

It was later found out that Granger had not killed Dumbledore in essence, but she was captured and imprisoned for more than a year before the Headmaster returned, whole and healthy via Horcrux after Voldemort's death. He retrieve Granger, and she returned to teaching potions.

Harry, Ron and Severus were all young men now, with quite a bit of experience behind them. At least as far as fighting evil went. But when it came to witches, the boys didn't have a clue.

Well, Severus did, technically. The problem was the application of his knowledge and honing his abilities.

It didn't help that he had a terrible, terrible crush on the snarkiest, most unapproachable witch in the wizarding world . . .

Professor Hermione Granger.

****************************************************  
A/N: And that is where the prequel ends and the story, "In an Alternate Universe" begins. As I said, this prequel consists mainly of JKR's writing so I can take no credit for creativity or storyline. This is "Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone" almost word for word. All I did was manipulate it slightly to make it a suitable beginning to my fanfic. Mostly I did this because it was challenging and fun, and I had rewrote the Pensieve scene earlier. Then I thought, why not take it further and make it a prequel to "In an Alternate Universe." So I did it. Again I have to state this is almost entirely verbatim from JKR's work. Still, thanks for reading.


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